Breakfast at Christine's
by Gueniver
Summary: Spock and Christine become friends over a series of dinners. Part of the Protesting Natures universe. The sequel to Fools. Recipes available upon request.


Breakfast at Christine's

By Lady Gueniver

Rated T

Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction. It is in the Protesting Natures universe and is the sequel to Fools. I do not intend any copyright infringement. I play with the toys and put them back when I'm done. I work without a net so feedback is eagerly sought.

**Menu  
**Cucumber and Tomato Salad  
Miso soup and bread  
Marionberry Cobbler

The first night there had been awkward silences broken by the sound of cutlery impacting china. But the silences hadn't lasted. Work, missions, their common friends, there was plenty to talk about and they had spent more time together than either had anticipated.

They were just friends.

Friends sharing a meal.

Spock raised his glass and for a moment Christine thought he was inspecting the contents but instead he toasted he slightly, a thank you for their first meal together.

She smiled and nodded her thanks as she took the empty dishes of cobbler and the creamy remnants of melted ice cream.

"Would you care for some tea?"

"The hour is late. I regret that I must depart if I am to be check in with the Captain on the progress of the Rigelian festivities."

"Thank you Spock, for coming."

"It was a most agreeable evening." He answered evenly and rising from his chair he moved to the door.

She froze as he approached the door.

He stopped a bare centimeter outside of its automatic sensor's range. He turned to regard her and he seemed to be quite embarrassed for a moment.

She didn't say anything, didn't need to. She darted forward to the door panel and pushed a few command keys on the display. There was a small chirp of response from the speaker and a colored representation of the corridor was displayed on the panel with small red dots that moved like ground cars along a highway. She tried not to meet his eyes as she performed the check. She felt like a 1st year cadet smuggling someone out of her dorm room.

Well, actually that was exactly what she was doing. Neither wanted anyone to know that they had met. No need to give their friendship unnecessary attention.

The corridor was clear and she turned her head to nod to him.

He had already noted the absence of others and was walking out at a decent clip. The doors closed behind him before she could tell that his ears had taken on a distinctly green flush.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Each dinner had been in Christine's quarters and she had not questioned it. The First Officer's cabin shared a bathroom with the Captain's cabin and their long friendship meant that it would be easy for him to just walk in. It was for sure that he would only misunderstand the context of Spock and Christine's dinner meetings. Her quarters were private and comfortable. They were also near Sickbay and the Science labs, which was both convenient and practical. Often they discussed work, science projects, and missions both past and current. Occasionally they listened to music or watched a vid. It was really nothing.

Just two friends meeting after duty hours.

Neither could say why they did so in private. Or why they never spoke of it to their friends. It was just something between the two of them.

Between two friends.

**Menu  
**Gazpacho  
Teriyaki Tofu Stir Fry with Basmati rice  
Key Lime Pie

A month had passed and they had met every week after he played in the rec room. The first night she and Ny had been there together, playing in the Uno tournament. Her friend had been far too distracted by Spock's music to play with much gusto and had been ousted early. She spent the majority of the evening singing to the slow measured strains of Santana songs on the Vulcan Lyre. Christine had smiled to herself, but kept her promise to keep her own counsel on the source of Spock's music. Even Uhura didn't know that she knew.

Later that night she had teased him a bit about his secret, but he had taken the ribbing good-naturedly over a large plate of pasta.

Tonight she threw caution to the wind and fired up an old fashioned wok in her cabin. She borrowed it from Leonard on the rare occasion that she could barter for enough good fresh vegetables from friends or purchase them planet side for in cabin consumption.

The smells of fresh rice and salty sweet stir fry made Spock's mouth water in an uncharacteristically instinctive fashion as he entered.

"Doctor Chapel, I should remind you that these sorts of cooking devices are strictly forbidden in crew quarters." He spoke gravely as he approached the counter that had become the kitchen for the evening.

She threw her hand over her brow in vaudevillian style, "Forbidden? Really? Oh my goodness, well perhaps I'll just toss it out the nearest hatch. Quick, before security gets here. You grab the rice cooker, I'll get the wok."

He raised an eyebrow and with a stern look stopped her, "I _should_ tell you that they are forbidden. However I find that I am quite conflicted in this matter."

She laughed and brought the steaming pile of veggies to the table, "Well, sir. While you're wrestling with your conscience your food is getting cold. I hope you like stir-fry. Please have a seat."

He sat in his accustomed chair and placed his napkin in his lap.

"Please, eat up. I don't want that gazpacho to get warm. I just need to clean up this wok real quick before it sets up or Leonard'll kill me." She disappeared into the bathroom with the large round cooking pan.

When she returned his small bowl of gazpacho was empty and he had already taken up the chopsticks for his stir-fry.

He gave a slightly guilty start as she sat and took up her chopsticks as well.

He brought out a hand held padd with a copy of the bio lab duty roster on it. "Shall we call this a working dinner?" he asked as he slid it across the table toward her.

She popped a pea pod into her mouth and took up the padd. "Sure thing. Let's see I'll need two junior grade officers to oversee the night shift and 5 researchers. 4 if you decide to help."

He chewed the mouthful of stir-fry quickly and swallowed. "I believe I have had sufficient experience with these particular plant species to satisfy any curiosity that I may have had. As a matter of fact based on said experiences I must admit to some reluctance to offer any members of my science staff without an adequate means of protection for them."

She smiled and reached over to her desk. She retrieved a data chit and popped it into the padd for display. She slid it across the table with a smug look and popped a large chunk of tofu into her mouth.

"What is this?" He scrolled down the complex chemical formula before him.

"The Antidote to Paradise. No bio suits required."

"Indeed." He looked impressed.

"Aw, go on! You flatterer." She waved a facetious hand at him, "I didn't do it all by myself. Leonard helped a little."

"A very little I am certain."

She nearly choked on her food at that. She swigged a large gulp of effervescent water to clear her throat. "Let's just say it's been tested and you have no need to fear for your men."

"Very well. In that case I would submit Mr. Checkov as team lead. He has yet to fulfill his science requirements for this performance cycle and has been pursuing leadership opportunities."

"I'll take him. I'll put Faron and Kelly on the project too. They're good guys but they need some time with an experienced officer outside of the med staff."

"Agreed. Shall we also assign Sulu? Or do you prefer an officer from medical?"

"I could assign our head nurse!" She laughed at her own joke. At the moment Enterprise did not have an official head nurse as Dr. McCoy had been assigned the position when they left Earth. Starfleet had not yet assigned a qualified nurse for the position. Fortunately the staff seemed to run just fine without one. Drs. Chapel and McCoy had distinct and exacting preferences and the nursing staff was new enough to be still trying to please the charismatic pair.

"I do not believe that would be well received, however I concede that the research would be handled by a well experienced officer." He gave her his small half smile and she nearly giggled in response. It was odd to see him so relaxed, odd but pleasant.

"No I don't suppose it would be very well received by either the team or Leonard!"

They bantered easily about the remaining members and finished their meal.

Spock drank his tea quietly, savoring the quiet sounds of the music on the comm system.

Christine put the last of the dishes into the wall unit and stifling a yawn took up her teacup to come join him at the small table. "More tea?"

Spock noticed her weariness and noting the time finished his tea quickly. "No, thank you. The hour is late. I should go."

She did not protest. It was nearly 2400. "Alright. Just a sec." She rose from her chair and placed the teapot in the replicator. She smoothed her hair absently in the mirror as she passed and picked up the padd on the desktop. "Don't forget the rotation roster."

He reached out for the report. "I had not forgotten it."

"I want your team in sickbay at 0900 for the inoculations." She said firmly before releasing the roster to him.

He nodded and took the roster "As you wish, Doctor."

"Will you have time to work out this morning?" she asked as she moved to the door and coaxed a scan of the corridor. She knew now that he was as much a night owl as herself and he preferred the wee hours of the morning for his daily workout.

He drew himself up stiff asserting his First Officer persona. "I do not believe so. Why?"

"Oh nothing, I just loaded a new musical selection and I thought you'd 'appreciate' it." The monitor beeped signaling that the corridor was clear. She looked up to him with a slight nod, "Try selection 13."

Spock moved without a backward glance to the door, "I shall look forward to hearing it." And the doors hissed shut behind him.

**Menu  
**Vegetarian Minestrone  
Artichoke and Kidney Bean Paella  
Mango Sorbet

Tonight's dinner meeting had appeared on Dr. Chapel's calendar a week earlier as just another meeting with another officer would. She accepted it and the comm system had automatically sent confirmation to the First Officer's calendar.

When she had checked her calendar that morning she felt somewhat relieved and quite pleased. It had been almost two weeks since they had met for dinner and she was looking forward to it.

She was in the mood for lasagna, but her first attempt had been only marginally commented on, so she had deduced that it was not one of his preferences. Instead she had started with big bowls of soup with tall glasses of sparkling blue Antarian spring water.

He didn't key the comm. She had given him permission to enter without waiting. It was especially handy when they met earlier in the evening and the corridors were busy, as they were this evening.

It didn't seem odd to either of them, especially in light of Leonard's remark about the two of them spending an awful lot of time together. He hadn't even had the decency to lower his voice in front of their combined staff during last month's meeting. He just guffawed as happy as a lark at the preposterousness of the possibility that they could actually like each other at all.

"Good evening Doctor."

Christine looked up from the table at his entrance, a bottle of spring water still pouring into her glass. "Oh hello, Spock. You're early." Not that she minded particularly. It was going to be an early morning for both of them. Their staffs were transporting and securing some particularly bothersome bio samples for experimentation even now.

"Am I?" he glanced at her chronometer. It was only 1742 on the display. He cocked an eyebrow, certain that it was incorrect. He moved with casual ease to her computer terminal but paused in front of it and for courtesy's sake asked "May I?" gesturing to the interface.

Christine shrugged, "Uh, sure. Why? Is there a problem?"

"We shall see." He pressed a button on the comm interface, "Computer, what is ship's time?"

A voice that was distinctly feminine and quite similar to Christine's answered. "Almost 8:00, sweetie." It was positively seductive sounding.

Spock toggled the comm channel, "Spock to Computer Sciences."

After a moment a voice responded. "Kyle here sir."

"Lt. Kyle, are you aware of any computer malfunctions?"

"Yes sir. We're working on it right now. It looks like some of Dr. Chapel's spores got into the circuitry. We're not sure how it happened sir."

A voice in the background spoke up, "Scott here sir. We've found the problem." His brogue was particularly thick, indicating his extreme irritation with the situation. "It looks like a wee bit o' trouble with the transporter. One of the samples had a containment breech in transport. It was scattered per Starfleet regulation but the field was set too close to the ship and some of the particles re materialized in the library computers."

Spock turned to Christine eyebrows raised in disbelief. Chapel sighed and moved to the comm system. "Scotty, it's Chris. Have the library decks been decontaminated?"

"Aye, Lass they have, per standard procedures. But it's only made the problem worse."

She almost chuckled, but instead opted for a light brogue response, "Well o' course it has, Laddie. The spores live on gamma radiation and that's exactly what you flood them with for decon. Tell you what, turn on all the maintenance lights for an hour and then give me a call and tell me how it's going."

There was a small sigh as she heard Scotty realize the truth and still not believe it could be so simple, "Yes ma'am."

Spock stepped back to the comm system as Christine moved to her table and placed her napkin in her lap.

"Mr. Scott, how widespread is the damage?"

"Well, it doesna appear that there's any real damage. The computer's just acting a wee bit queer, if you know what I mean. No real danger though."

"Very well. Report back in one hour."

He turned back to the table to see Christine ladling hot minestrone into large earthenware bowls.

"Soup's on, Mr. Spock. Did you bring the duty roster?"

"I did." He joined her at the table.

"Don't look so glum, your staff'll be fine."

"I do not look 'glum'. I am understandably concerned for my staff's wellbeing."

"Spock, they've all been inoculated. Even if they are accidentally exposed, the spores can't influence them. Trust me. I've tested it myself."

Spock's hand stopped mid air, a small drop of minestrone fell from his spoon back into his bowl. His eyes were dark. "You tested the inoculation on yourself?"

She smiled wryly. "Yes, of course I did. I couldn't very well ask your men to submit to a untested medicine now could I?"

"I understood that it had been tested per Starfleet regulation and its efficacy proven in your biolab." He scooped up another spoonful of soup.

She chuckled, "Yup, I was in charge of the final round of testing myself. Leonard and I dosed ourselves up and spent the evening exposed to live plants. Other than a nasty case of hay fever like symptoms from all that pollen we were just fine."

"Very well, doctor." He sipped the soup again.

"How's the soup?" she asked, trying not to sound too eager. It wasn't that she was fishing for a compliment, she was just testing the waters trying to determine what she would make next time.

"It is quite adequate." He did not look up from the spoonful that was carefully poised near his mouth.

She sighed slightly in exasperation and sipped her own soup. "Ny – Uhura gave me a copy of 'Mallrats'. You said you were interested in 20th century comedy. Do you have time tonight?"

"I do. Shall we begin it now or do you prefer to wait until we have finished the meal?"

"Well, this monitor's as big as the other, we can just watch it here." She popped the small data chit into the slot and a moment later the screen was filled with the images of the movie.

As she popped the vid in he continued.

"I have not had the opportunity to thank you for the music you supplied. Where did you get it?"

She smiled, "My mom and dad were neo hippies when they met in college. They had all that crazy music. Led Zeppelin, Santana, Barry Manilow even some really depressing stuff by a guy called Garth Brooks."

"Indeed."

"They even wore all those crazy clothes to their renaissance parties. My mom had the ugliest pair of hot pink satin shorts and a giant white hat. They knew all the old dances. It's kind of sad really. All they ever had in common was their dream of some past that never really existed. They sure looked good together though. The electric slide, the football, the robot they even did the lindy-hop, though I think that's a lot older than the 20th century."

The vid finished the opening credits as she spoke.

Spock thought for a moment. He was about to correct her memory regarding the time frame in which the lindy-hop was practiced when an idea came to him. "Perhaps you should consider expanding the parameters of your hypothesis on the Omicron spores." His brows furrowed for a moment in thought.

She sat in her chair and continued to watch the monitor, "Oh?" she asked absently watching the vid skip and wobble before the computer compensated and stabilized the image. Many of the data disks on Enterprise were copies of copies and occasionally the data was defective.

"Perhaps the medical usages of the spores could be expanded to include a more broad spectrum."

"Like what?"

"If the Enterprise's computer technology was effected it would follow that other technology could be effected as well. What do you suppose the effects on artificial intelligence?"

She looked up at him for a moment, trying to catch his thought. "What if it were used on a cybernetic – a robot? Would it simply 'animate' the machine or give the spores a 'body'?"

"It is an interesting question."

"It's a terrific question, I'll start in the morning! Have you got a robot just lying around?"

"Enterprise does not currently have a cybernetic unit that I recommend for such an experiment, however a simulation might prove just as useful."

She frowned. "I dunno, it'd take a lot of programming for the simulation. I don't have anyone on my staff qualified for that sort of thing."

"I would not have suggested a simulation if I were not willing to do the programming for it. I _am_ the most qualified on the ship."

She nodded gravely, lost in thought for a moment. Then she rose and grabbed a data pad to collect her thoughts. "Alright, if you do the programming for the simulation, we don't really need to use the spores. We could in theory just program their characteristics into the sim." She tapped the pad quickly with each new sentence, "But then the question of animation won't truly be tested. Of course we could create a separate sim environment, a virtual robot, and actually expose it to the spores. They'd have to have some sort of gamma radiation power cells."

Spock watched in fascination as her mind went twice as fast as her fingers and her ideas fleshed out into a theory.

The movie ran for several minutes and he was able to catch the gist of the story while finishing his food and listening to Christine in silence.

After a long time she stopped dead, suddenly realizing where she was and what she was doing.

"Oh Spock, I'm so sorry." She put the pad down abruptly and turned to sit back down at the table. The vid was not halfway through and her dinner was quite cold.

"No apologies are necessary. It is an intriguing theory. I look forward to the results. Your dinner, however, is cold."

She sighed with an embarrassed smile and took her soup bowl and paella to the replicator for re heating. It was a nearly instantaneous process, so she was startled slightly when she turned with the dishes in hand and nearly ran into Spock. His hands were also full, of his now empty dishes. "Umph!" She exclaimed as she stopped abruptly, nearly spilling soup down the front of his uniform.

"My apologies I should have announced my presence." He said.

She thought she could see a hint of humor in his eyes. As if he were trying to say, 'Who do you think would be here?'.

He stepped aside allowing her a clear path back to her chair

She sat and pulled a foot up comfortably under her in the chair in a sort of half lotus position and pretended to be interested in the movie.

Spock placed the dishes in the replicator and keyed up a pot of Chai. He spotted the two empty glass dishes near the replicator and a menu chit. He placed the dishes in the replicator, slid the chit in and the door opened with two beautiful scoops of orange colored frozen dessert.

He deftly took the two dishes in one hand, balancing one on his wrist and picked up the pot of Chai brining them to the table.

Christine was quite obviously stunned. She had sneaked another look at her data pad to add another idea and had not noticed his kind work in her 'kitchen'.

He didn't say anything as he placed the dish in front of her and the pot in the center of the table.

"Why Mr. Spock you _are_ a man of many talents!"

He made an effort to look affronted. "I am quite capable of handling a replicator, Doctor."

She smiled, "Not that, you goof. I meant the dishes, you'd make a fine waiter with that balancing act of yours."

He nodded slightly at the 'compliment' and took up his spoon poking the orange ball in his dish, "I shall remember that if I find a career in Starfleet to be dissatisfying."

She laughed, scooping up a bit of orange, "It's sorbet, mango sorbet." She said with a smile.

He scooped up a bite as well and found the flavor to be surprisingly fresh and satisfying.

Then he turned back to the movie and tried to understand the root of the archaic humor while just on his periphery of vision, Christine picked up the data pad once again and began to tap and type.

All in all it was a pleasantly quiet evening.

**Menu  
**Hazelnut and Potato Rissoles with Roasted Red Pepper Sauce  
Oriental Spinach and Mandarin Orange Salad  
Coconut and Banana Pudding

She slid a newly replicated serving spoon under the steaming nut pancake. The combination of ground hazelnuts and potatoes and garlic made her mouth water. She slid the cake onto his plate and he nodded slightly in acknowledgement but did not raise his eyes from the padd.

With the padd in one hand he scrolled through the paper, "This is quite good, Doctor. When will you publish it?" He picked up his glass of sparkling water and drank, leaning back comfortably in the chair.

"As soon as I decide whether it's a failure or a success. It certainly was an unexpected discovery."

"The unexpected inevitably offers the most possibility for change and growth."

"Necessity is the mother of invention? Experience is what you get when you don't get what you want?" she laughed and speared a piece of the crispy potato cake.

Spock continued to read.

She chewed and swallowed watching him read. He seemed fairly relaxed maybe she should ask him now. "Spock, what do you like to eat?"

He put the padd down, now finished with the paper and placed his napkin in his lap, "I don't understand the question."

"Well, since you and I have been sharing meals together, I just thought it would be nice to make something that you like."

He took up his cutlery and speared an orange and a leaf of spinach, "I have enjoyed each meal you have prepared." He took the bite to his mouth and bit down, chewing slowly, efficiently.

"Yes, but if you could choose to have something, what would you choose?"

He speared more salad and two oranges in an uncharacteristically large bite. "I would choose a meatless meal with the maximum amount of nutrition within my dietary requirements."

She sighed not sure if he was being facetious or not, "Oh now come on, you have to have favorites, preferences. Everyone has preferences."

Spock looked truly confused for a moment as if it were truly beyond his comprehension, "To prefer a single nutritional source over another is illogical."

She opened her mouth to retort and then saw what she had been waiting for.

His gaze dropped to the salad and fixed on the mandarin orange that remained. Certainly he had eaten each food set before him but the expression on his face as the oranges gave up their fresh sweet juice was positively appreciative.

Now her conversation was preventing him from finishing.

She could see that he was eager to eat. Evidently the salad was a hit.

She simply smiled and stabbed at her own salad and answered with a non-committal," Uh-huh." She shoved a forkful of greens into her mouth allowing him to finish.

After a few moments though, she could not resist one more comment. "Well, fine then. But you've got to know I hate a mystery. It may take some time but I'll figure it out."

He looked confused, as if they were not speaking the same language "Figure it out?"

She stared at him with a wicked grin lifted her eyebrows significantly "What you _really_ want." She tipped her glass up and swallowed the sweet Altair water.

Spock stopped, fork midair. He looked scandalized "I beg your pardon?"

It was Christine's turn to look confused. Her eyes darted up from her glass, "What?" His meaning comprehended she suddenly covered her mouth with her napkin swallowing and nearly choking on the water. "Oh gosh I'm sorry. What I meant was what you prefer to eat. You know what your favorite food is." Her face flushed slightly. What was he thinking?

"Yes, of course." He nodded and turned his attention back to his food.

'Yes, of course', She thought to herself, her mental tone sarcastic. What the hell was he thinking? That she would lace the conversation with risque repartee, innuendo or sexual tension. 'Yes of course'. Did he think that she was trying to seduce him? Ply him with food and Altair water and drag him to bed? It was an innocent friendly curiosity. The kind of thing any accommodating hostess might ask. What do you want?

Now she froze, her fork mid air.

'What do you _want_?'

Well, when she thought of it like that it did sound…suspicious. But surely he knew her better by now. She wasn't a bubbling teenager and this wasn't the Academy. They were colleagues, compatriots, friends not hormone hyped adolescents fumbling on their parent's couch.

She was quite distracted by her inner conversation and didn't even notice his stare until he finally spoke.

"Is everything alright?"

She blinked hard and cleared her throat uncomfortably, "Yes, fine." She took another long drink of her water.

"You appear to be quite distracted. Perhaps I should go."

"No, don't. I haven't even brought out dessert." She rose and took her mostly untouched plate along with his empty dishes to the replicator chute. As reached for the two dishes of pudding her thumb lightly brushed the whipped cream of one serving. She mentally designated it her bowl and absently brought her thumb to her mouth to conceal her clumsy mistake.

Then she had an idea.

'So,' she thought wickedly, 'he thinks I'm trying to seduce him?'

She placed his bowl in front of him and put hers down as she sat. 'I'll show you, Mr. I-don't-have-a-favorite-food! After our next meal, you'll be listing off your favorites for an hour.' She picked up her spoon and scooped up the pudding. Her eyes twinkled with evil humor as she planned their next meal.

**Menu  
**Pita bread an Hummous and Baba Ganoush  
Vegetables and Dill sauce  
Fresh Strawberries and Chocolate sauce

As always he was prompt. Arriving at precisely 2201. He stepped into her cabin as easily as ever but for an instant he paused.

She ignored his raised eyebrow by adjusting the teapot slightly on the small table.

He didn't pause long, but moved smoothly into the anteroom where she had their meal arranged.

She swallowed hard expecting some sort of remark about the music or the lights, but he simply took his seat as he always had and raised his eyes to hers. Strains of Vulcan lyre music played over the comm system.

It had taken her two hours to find a copy in the computer, the aria of T'Kuht as she prepared for her death. It was a thinly veiled sexual reference with rising and falling measures of music that were said to drive men wild. It was also the sound track to the now legendary and highly controversial vid 'I Was A Vulcan Sex Slave'.

He had already scanned the meal and the lighting levels. His only reaction was to look piercingly into her eyes, almost challenging. "The meal is as always, quite delicious in appearance. Shall we?" He took up his napkin and placed it in his lap.

She reached out a hand to the central plate, noting that she trembled slightly, and picked up a piece of pita bread. She tore it neatly in half and left behind one half for Spock.

Symbolic again. Vulcans, she knew did not eat with their hands, except in an intimate setting. Nor did they share food, except with a spouse or a child.

Spock had a look of slightly amused tolerance as he took up the remaining torn half of bread and, mimicking the doctor, tore off a smaller bite sized piece. "Commander Uhura mentioned that you have finally published your scientific paper on the Omicron Spores."

She reached forward with her bite-sized piece of bread and scooped it into the pale brown paste.

Spock did likewise and brought the flat bread to his mouth.

She answered simply, almost distractedly and he continued his easy line of questioning about the paper, then current work being done in the labs. He was infuriatingly relaxed. The lighting was so low she was not certain whether his ears were flushed a shade darker of green, although she was certain _he_ could hear her heart pounding furiously.

Christine's appetite was light, but the food was delicious.

They finished the meal and she brought out a plate of strawberries and a warm bowl of dark chocolate sauce and the usual pot of hot creamy Chai.

Spock did not comment on the berries. He simply reached forward and took two large red berries in hand. He easily bit through the smooth red flesh and was rewarded with a bright summery explosion of juice. "Extraordinarily fresh fruit. A product of Ensign Farron's botany endeavors I assume?" He commented as he took another strawberry.

She nodded through a mouthful of berries and swiftly swallowed. "Yes, he's got a plot in the arboretum now, near the water. He talked Sulu into it too, so now he's effectively got twice as much space, since Hikaru's put in some too."

Spock tilted his head with a bland expression and teasingly asked, "He is a highly gifted agronomist. Are you certain you require his skills in sickbay?" He dipped a strawberry into the dark sauce and rather deftly deposited it into his mouth. Not even the slightest bit of chocolate dripped astray. It wouldn't dare, she thought idly fascinated with his mouth. She blinked hard pushing away the train of thought that was niggling at her subconscious.

She laughed at his question, "No way, mister. He's my nurse and that's the end of it. If you want to corner the market on berries, pull Sulu to the science labs!"

He shook his head gravely, "I doubt that the Captain would appreciate the transfer of his helmsman to accommodate my personal appreciation of fresh produce."

"I'm sure he wouldn't. I promise to share what I get, how's that?"

"An agreeable solution." He answered and looked at the empty berry plate in distinct disappointment.

She saw the look and made a mental note to have more fruit the next time, "More Chai?"

"No thank you." He answered. He took the napkin from his lap and deposited on the table near his plate.

"So, what would you like next time?" She left the question intentionally open and leaned forward on her elbows.

Spock looked as if he might actually smile for a moment, then the expression dissipated and his gaze was once again even, "As I have stated before, I have no preference for a meal choice."

They pushed their dishes to the center of the small table almost in unison and she smiled at the easy coincidence.

"I've got another installment of the Jay and Silent Bob Classics, if you're interested." She rose to her small bureau and produced a small data chit that read 'Dogma' in neat handwriting on the front.

"I fear I must leave. Jim is expecting me for chess in the rec room shortly."

"Hmph! Chess with Jim over 'Dogma' on a 12" monitor. Alright, but I think you've gotten your priorities a little out of whack." She teased and tossed the data chit back wondering when he had decided to call the Captain Jim in her presence.

He rose from his chair and Christine moved towards the door to execute their now traditional exit. She usually keyed up a sensor scan of the corridor and Spock awaited her word that the hall was clear. At least that was the usual routine.

This time, however, Spock stopped in the center of the room and reached out a hand to Christine, preventing her passing beyond him to the door sensor panel

She froze in her tracks, stunned by his action. Her eyes wide she turned quickly to face him and verbalize her shock but the look on his face stopped her dead in her tracks.

It was _that_ look.

The one that she was certain she would never in a million years see on his face.

It was not the look of a friend, compatriot, co-worker and colleague.

Bedroom eyes they called them, heavy lids, pupils dilated intense piercing glaze. A flick of the tongue across the lips – soft wet inviting lips.

His eyes darted to her mouth then to her eyes and back and forth with heart clenching speed. It was a very deliberate move. She could see his tongue flick across his lips as his eyes fixed on her mouth.

Her jaw dropped. Her heart seemed to stop for a moment. Her mouth went dry and her hands began to sweat. A surge of panicked adrenaline flushed through her.

Spock simply cocked his head slightly, raised an eyebrow and said, "Good night, Christine."

Then without another word, without a hesitation or the slightest pause for permission he leaned in and using his superior Vulcan strength pulled her body to his.

Christine could hardly breathe. She knew what he was about to do and she couldn't even begin to believe it. She was stunned motionless, as the moment seemed to stretch out for eternity. A distant part of her mind suddenly knew what it was to be a deer in the headlights of an oncoming flitter.

He pulled her closer and closer until his face was only a hair's breadth from hers.

She only watched in mortified wonder as his eyes slowly changed from the mask of impassive neutrality that he had worn throughout the meal to quiet amusement. His eyes closed and she could see his mouth close softly and his lips purse slightly. She could feel the heat of his body press against hers. His lips were warm, soft and gentle against her own.

She sucked in her breath in wild disbelief. Her body froze in his arms. What was happening? What the bloody hell was happening?!

He did not stop his kiss or pull away at this, indeed he seemed to shift his steely hold slightly and his lips slid slightly across her mouth as he quite passionately increased the fervor with which he kissed her.

It was too much for Christine to comprehend, her knees felt weak. She felt as if any moment she would faint. She melted into his embrace, helpless against the sensations that pressed against her.

What was happening?

What-why? Why would he-?!

Then, with a sudden burst of mental clarity she pushed him away, hard.

There was the telltale light smacking sound of a gentle kissing as he pulled his mouth from hers.

He did not release her from his arms.

He regarded her with a look of deeply mischievous satisfaction, the quintessential cat that ate the canary.

"Wha-wha-what wa-wa-was – " she stammered wishing he would release her or say something or do something. But he just kept looking at her with that damnably smug look on his face. "What was **that**!"

His eyes twinkled with humor. "I understand that it has been some time since I have engaged in the activity, but however poor my technique I am certain you recognize _that_ as a kiss."

She wriggled gently trying to extricate herself from his insistent grip. "Spock, I don't know what you're playing at but I don't think this is funny."

"I was not attempting humor, Christine. I assure you." He leaned in closer so that his mouth was just a few millimeters from hers. "Perhaps I should – try – again."

And he did. Gently, lightly he brushed her lips as if electric sparks crossed the gap. The soft kiss was tender and heated all at once. It was as if he focused some supernatural energy at her, a heretofore-unknown Vulcan Kiss of Death.

She gasped. Her hands opened and clenched in the air as she fought the unreality of the moment. She found herself falling once again. Her eyes closed slowly as she lost herself for a moment.

Then abruptly her eyes flung open and she pushed him away with a hard shove. "Kroykah!" She shouted, barely able to remember why she knew it was the thing to say. She stood heaving and gasping, now free from his embrace but unwilling or unable to move away. "Spock, are you all right? Are you – are you feeling alright?"

This time a slight rumble of humor escaped him. "I am well, Christine."

She turned away and began to move towards her tricorder, but he stopped her firmly pulling her back into his arms. "No, Christine. It's all right." He held her firmly by the shoulders, stilling her protests with an intense, meaningful gaze "_Doctor_! Dr. Chapel, I _am_ well."

She gaped, about to speak to protest yet again.

"Christine, It is all right, I am fine."

The unreality seemed to well up as tears in her eyes, "I-I d-don't understand. I mean you don't just, well I mean you don't just…Spock, what do you think you're doing?"

He raised both eyebrow in astonishment and answered evenly, facetiously deadpan, "I believe I am holding you in a close embrace. In a moment I shall kiss you again. It is my intention that this time I perform it well enough to convince you that I am truly kissing you and that this is not an illusion, an illness or any other explanation that you may be thinking of to explain what you believe is my irrational behavior. Perhaps I will even persuade you to invite me back on another occasion so that we may watch that vid you acquired. Once I am satisfied that you are truly convinced, then I shall leave and join the captain in the recreation room for a game of chess."

"But why?" she choked out in a whisper.

He leaned in slowly, intentionally as he spoke "I could offer a flippant response to the effect that I am obligated to play chess with Jim this evening because he is my friend and my captain. But you want to know why I have kissed you."

"Yes." She whispered unable to bear the intensity of his gaze and the softness of his breath. She felt as if the world were melting all around her.

"I wanted to." And he did so once again.

Christine was drowning suddenly in the kiss, falling into the warmth of his arms and the softness of his mouth. This time she only barely hesitated. Then with uncertain and trembling hands she pulled him to her like a teenager. She shuddered at the sweetness of his kiss.

For a long time he held her in the breathless kiss until finally the trembling seemed to ease and then finally ceased altogether. Her mind's panic yielded to them moment and her body responded with passion.

Then he slowly, gently released her.

With as much dignity as he could muster and an immensely satisfied twinkle in his eye he moved to the door. A single step from the door's sensors he smoothed down his uniform. Without breaking his step or even a look over his shoulder he left her quarters, his voice carrying back to her as he left "Goodnight, Christine."

The doors hissed shut and he was gone leaving a gasping and bewildered Christine Chapel to stare into the darkness of her room.

**Menu  
**Beer and Nachos

Christine folded her arms and stared at the door. It was 2105 and he wasn't here. It was very uncharacteristic of him to be so late. The head on the Guinness was deflating.

It had been three weeks since their last meeting. Spock had shown no signs of illness or alien possession. Instead he had been pleasant, polite and if she didn't know better, smug.

She smiled at the memory of her meeting notice. 'First Officer Spock requests meeting with Dr. Christine Chapel. RE: Nachos.'

She chuckled. Nachos?

It had been the subject of conversation at the end of the monthly staff meeting. Her parents made the best salsa in the galaxy she touted. Sulu interjected that his salsa was incomparable. Checkov and Faron argued over the origins of the fiery condiment.

Quiet missions had bred friendly competition among the science and med staffs.

Spock had remained silent.

She smiled again watching the bubbles on the Guinness pop.

There was a buzz at the door.

"Come." She said.

Spock entered, a small container in one hand.

"My apologies for my tardiness. Mr. Sulu was quite verbose in his discussion of Terran species of pepper plants."

"Why were you discussing peppers with Sulu?" She asked turning to the replicator. She pushed a button and an instant later a large plate of sizzling cheese and chips appeared. She dumped a small container of chopped tomatoes, olives, onions and fresh delicate cilantro over the top.

Spock placed the small container on the table and lifted the lid. "He was instructing me on the ancient art of salsa making."

Christine stared at the bright red salsa in the bowl. The tangy lime and pungent garlic scent rose up in tantalizing waves. "You got Sulu to make some salsa for you?"

"Actually, Mr. Sulu supervised the activity. I made the salsa."

Her jaw dropped in grand comic fashion and she clutched her chest in mock surprise. "_You_ made the salsa?"

He cocked his head to one side, "Really, Doctor. Sarcasm is hardly called for."

She winked playfully, "Well, I dunno. It depends on how good the salsa is, doesn't it?" She pulled a hot chip from the sticky plate leaving long strings of melted cheese in its wake and dipped it deeply into the dish. She scooped up a large sample of Spock's handiwork and before he could warn her, popped it into her mouth.

"It is quite spicy." He said evenly and he watched in mild amusement as she turned quite red and struggled to chew and then swallow the bite of food. She grabbed her beer and took a long draught of the cooling brown liquid.

"_Quite Spicy_? I don't think a Horta could touch that stuff!" She gasped.

Spock looked alarmed now as she sputtered and coughed a bit more.

"My apologies, it was not my intention to-" he reached out to take away the offending condiment but her hand closed on his abruptly.

"Don't you dare!" She barked hoarsely, "It's the best dang stuff I've had in ages. I just need to pace myself is all."

She took the plate of nachos and the dish of salsa to the small table in front of her couch and placed them in the center for easy reach.

Spock was a step behind her with the beer. She retrieved a dish of guacamole from the replicator and a vid chit while Spock sat down and sampled his handiwork.

The fiery salsa had distracted them both from their last dinner's end. It had been a bare two weeks, but now that they were settling in on the couch for a movie Christine felt a pang of uncertainty that she hadn't experienced since her teenaged years.

She sat rather still as the vid began, concentrating on the food and surreptitiously watching Spock out of the corner of her eye.

He seemed relaxed enough. Certainly he was not nearly as nervous about this as she was.

She took a deep drink of her beer and noted that Spock's was nearly gone. "Do you like the beer?" She asked and her voice sounded ridiculously soft and timid to her own ears. "I could get something else if you prefer."

Teenager that's what she was a stupid, self-deprecating, all pleasing teenager. She resisted the urge to slap her forehead in frustration.

Spock did not seem to notice. "It is an interesting combination, the salt of the corn chips, the spice of the habaneros, the bitterness of the beer. I am quite enjoying the combination. You were quite correct yet again Doctor."

She relaxed a bit and continued to watch the movie. It had been years since she had seen it and she couldn't remember what was going to happen next.

"I do not understand the use of vulgarity in this film." Spock said tilting back his beer. "Is it for a social statement or is its intention for humor as the Silent Bob movies?"

She shrugged slightly, "I don't know. I remember that a lot of these old movies have this kind of language in them. I guess every generation had to have some sort of destructive behavior. Take the black and white movies of the earlier half of the century. Everyone is addicted to tobacco and easily half are alcoholics."

"However their language was not as unnecessarily profane."

"True. I don't know maybe it's necessary to the story. It's been a long time since I've seen this." She finished her beer and rose to retrieve the last two bottles to refill their glasses.

As she returned she noted the scene on the screen. Oh yes, now she remembered. This was a movie her parents had adored and she had not been allowed to watch as a small child.

The hero and heroine were locked in a fully open-mouthed tongue-twisting kiss. Heroine's shirt removed, hero's hands distinctly absent from the camera shot. The heroine's voice was heard heaving and sighing the hero's name in slow, rhythmic loves song.

Christine felt the blood rise to her cheeks as she shot a glance to Spock. His eyes were wide with shock and brows were lost in satin smooth black bangs.

"Uh, sorry. We can skip this part if you like." She reached to the vid controls.

"No not at all. It is most…educational." He answered, not taking his eyes from the screen.

Christine sat slowly on the couch next to Spock as far from him as the tiny furniture would allow.

"Educational?"

"Yes. A moment ago the gentleman called her a rather distasteful name and in response she made a most unflattering reference to his parentage. Somehow that led to a failed attempt on his part to strike her. She countered with another expletive and an attempt to strike him as well. This violent altercation seems to have brought the two of them quite comfortably to the decision to have intimate relations." He shook his head in wonder.

She smiled remembering the first time she had seen the scene in its unedited entirety. She had been in college and even then the cultural differences between late 20th century film and modern relationships were as broad as they were now. But the raw sexuality of the moment was amazing and it combined with the humor of the impending scenes to make one of the all time classics of 20th century film.

"I do not understand." He said finally.

"What's not to understand?" She answered playfully as she leaned back on the couch and put her hand up on the armrest.

Spock looked at her intensely for an instant as if gauging the situation. Calculating a problem.

Deciding what to say in order to get the reaction that he wanted?

He raised one eyebrow and tilted his head to one side, a corner of his mouth curled playfully. "I do not understand why this scene was necessary to the film."

"Well," she thought for a 'logical' answer. "I suppose it's because it's important to the plot that the audience understands they've slept together."

He gestured with his chin to the view screen, "That is hardly sleeping."

"C'mon Spock, It's an expression. The scene is necessary to indicate that sexual relations occurred between the characters."

"But this is not sexual relations either. This is kissing." Her cheeks flushed bright red now as she realized where he was going and that she had been sucked right down into it. "Well of course it's not sex. The censors of the 20th century would never allow a sex act in a movie like this."

"Then why is this scene necessary?"

"To signify sex."

"Is kissing sex?"

"No, it's kissing."

"Perhaps I do not understand, was kissing considered a sexual act in the 20th century?"

"Well, no. I don't think it was. No – not really."

"I submit it is a superfluous scene. If the earlier half of the century could accomplish the same tension and humor without this sort of graphic sexuality."

"I said it's not necessarily sex. I didn't say it wasn't necessary for sex."

"I see, is kissing is necessary to the sex act for humans?"

"I – well. I suppose it depends on the individuals. Not all cultures on Earth kissed, some found it to be taboo among lovers and it was reserved for parent and child relationships only. Others saw it as a greeting like the modern hand shaking rituals and not the intimate scene here. You're twisting my words, Spock."

"I am not. You have said that kissing is not necessary." He lifted his glass of beer and took a long drink.

"No, strictly speaking it's not necessary." She stopped and her eyes narrowed slightly. Two could play at this game. "Not any more necessary than the touching of minds that telepaths are said to engage in when they are physically intimate."

Spock's eyes darted up from his beer as he was drinking.

She lifted her glass to her lips, "Or perhaps that is just a myth."

Spock's eyes narrowed as well, "It is no myth." He cleared his throat slightly and replaced the glass on the table, "I have found in my scientific and biological research of intergalactic species that several of telepathic races engage in a multitude of variations on intimate mental contact when participating in physical intimacies."

"So I guess it's a similar thing. The desire to be intimate in as many ways as possible, that is. The need to touch and be touched, to engage all the senses, the whole body, not just those specific to procreation. I guess that's what separates us from the plants. Our desire. And that's what this movie is all about. Desire and its wonderful, heart wrenching comical moments."

She stopped there and looked at him intently.

The actors had long since progressed into the bedroom and beyond. It was the next day on the screen and the pair were awaking with the movie's signature comical moment. The morning after.

Spock turned his attention back to the movie in silence.

She drank her beer in silence. She was glad that she had outgrown those days, the college years of uncertainty and carelessness. She was too old to play those sorts of games. Name calling, stone throwing, and before you know it you're in bed with someone and you don't even remember how you got there.

She was lost in thought, memories of the follies of a well-wasted youth when something brushed her cheek. For the briefest of seconds she thought there must be a fly in the room. She moved her hand to brush it away and found Spock's hand there. He quite naturally caught her hand in his. When had he put his hand up on the back of the couch? How did that happen and she didn't even notice?

She looked at him and saw his eyes were fixed on hers with a look of curiosity and tenderness. It wasn't the intense need that she had seen before it was more of a question. We are alone - may I kiss you?

She didn't dare blink, for fear that she would find that it was a dream. She couldn't even nod her head. She just looked at him, unable to look away, losing herself in his brown eyes.

Then she was falling. Or maybe he was falling. From her perspective it was hard to say.

All she knew was that they were falling together in slow motion. A distant part of her mind said this shouldn't be happening. This was too good to be real. In a moment they would hit foreheads clumsily knocking each other out, they would fumble off the couch to the floor. Any moment now a red alert would go off and they would be discovered.

Then her lips touched his and it was perfect.

Somehow his left arm slid softly over her shoulder and around her back, his right hand came up to brush her hair aside as he kissed her. She could only wrap her hands around his waist and pull him to her.

His mouth was soft and sweet and bitter from dark beer. It was wonderful.

As one they parted lips and shifted against one another. Her body pressed more firmly against his now as she leaned back on the couch pulling him down on her.

His tongue brushed her lips, she could hear gasping breath in a fog of sounds and she didn't know if it was her own or Spock's. She felt him slip slightly and then the telltale sound of the coffee table as it abruptly slid hard away and a glass fell to her cabin floor with a loud splashing clink.

They froze.

What were they doing?

Had they lost their minds?

Spock looked at her now with terrible combination of panic and passion and confusion.

What, she wondered, did her face say?

Her heart beat madly in her chest. She could feel his breath on her face, hot, labored with desire.

He closed his mouth and swallowed hard, thinking. She could almost see the gears spinning.

She swallowed hard too. The taste of him still lingered on her lips.

She drew in a shuddering breath. She had to say something.

This was a mistake. They had to stop. What were they thinking? They were friends, not lovers.

She sighed heavily and her fingers shifted on his shirt. They ached with a desire to know the feel of his skin, just as her mouth ached to feel his tongue brush against them. She wanted him so much. She knew he wanted her, could feel the hot hardness pressing against her.

She had to say _something_.

She drew in another shuddering breath and watched his face compose itself as he slowly withdrew from the madness of this moment.

She licked her lips desperate to see that look in his eyes again the look of desperate hopefulness. "Let's move to someplace more comfortable." She whispered and she saw it.

He leaned in to her, kissing her lightly. Then leaned back and rose from the couch. He did not bother to conceal the very evident arousal that now pressed against his uniform trousers at her eye level.

She smiled broadly as she rose, kissing him firmly on the mouth and pressing up against his body. Two millimeters of Starfleet issue, that's all that stood between her and bliss. She ran one hand firmly down the front of his trousers with a wicked smile.

He raised an eyebrow, parted his lips as if to say something but instead took her hand and turned and led the way to her sleeping alcove. They walked slowly, carefully avoiding the broken glass and small puddle of brown beer on the floor.

She would take care of it in the morning.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

She lay very still barely breathing.

She couldn't tell if he was awake.

Her heart beat madly and her hands sweat profusely.

What did she do? What happened? How did this happen?

They had watched the vid, eaten terrible junk food, drank very good beer. It was a family tradition she had told him. Nachos and beer. Spicy salsa, guacamole, crunchy salty chips coated with thick layers of melted cheese. Tall glasses of dark Guinness Stout.

At some point they had turned to face one another he had his arm around her. When had he put his arm around her?

After the first beer?

Or the second?

How many beers had she drunk?

"Two." Came an amused rumble from her side.

"What?" She gasped and sat up abruptly, she hastily covered her breasts with the sheet.

He raised his brows in amusement and reached up gently to brush her face with tender affection. Then he slid his hand comfortably down her neck to the sheet clutched as high as she could manage about her throat.

"It is perhaps a bit late for that, don't you agree?" He pulled her hands down slowly and the sheet fell with her hands, exposing her breasts once more.

"Spock, I-I." She stammered uncomfortably her eyes darting around the room helplessly searching for something to say, something to make sense of this moment. For a moment her eyes began to tear up, but she swallowed down the panic.

"Sshh…come here, Christine." Spock pulled her down to him.

She didn't know what else to do, but fall into his arms.

She snuggled down against his shoulder finding it at once foreign and impossibly comfortable. "I don't understand. What are you doing?" Her voice was small, almost a whisper.

Spock pulled her closer and leaned down and kissed her forehead tenderly, "You do seem to have a difficult time understanding my actions of late. Shall I describe in detail as we continue in the form of a play by play narrative or do you prefer a post copulative analysis?" He did not laugh or chuckle, but she could feel the ripple of amusement in his body, like a distant chime in the wind.

This time she did laugh.

With one hand he traced down her arm and back up to her shoulder, caressing her intimately and yet still quite innocuously. He caught a lock of dark hair on her shoulder and lifted it up letting the strands fall through his fingers, watching the myriad of colors that made up her 'plain brown' as they reflected in the dim light.

She sighed contentedly.

His hand dropped slowly to her collarbone then lower still to the curve of her breast. With feather light fingertips he caressed her skin watching with pleasure as her nipple contracted at his touch and her breath quickened slightly.

She felt her toes curl involuntarily at his touch.

Abruptly she shook herself back to reality, she tried to grab his hand to stop his insistent caress "What's going on, Spock? No – Stop! Really. What are we doing?"

He propped himself up on one arm and looked seriously down into her eyes. He did not stop touching her, however.

His voice was soft and intense, the baritone vibrated in her chest and added to the delight of his touch. "I do not truly know, Christine. It was my hope that you would have more of an understanding of such relationships as my own experiences has been quite limited. I enjoy your company. You are my friend and I have found that I desire you. I should hope you now understand this." He leaned in to kiss her lightly to emphasize his words. "I wish to explore all of the possibilities." He paused letting the words sink in.

For an instant she thought she saw a flicker of doubt, but it quickly disappeared. Then he continued evenly, "And you, what are your intentions?"

She tried to look shocked at this. "My intentions? _My_ intentions? You started this not me."

Spock only made an amused sound in his throat and he leaned in again and nuzzled against her cheek, kissing her ear deliciously, "Did I?"

"What do you mean? Of course you did. You –" her protest was smothered by his mouth as he kissed her again and she found that it was perfect. If a kiss could be perfect, if a kisser could be professional then this was a perfect professional kiss. She moaned against his mouth and melted into the bed again.

Spock lifted his head slightly and raised an eyebrow his mouth was barely brushing her jaw line. His hands now slid down her body in smooth possessive strokes. "You play at seduction and are surprised to find your partner aroused?" and he pressed his hips against her in proof of just that fact. The heat from his swollen member was fevered against her skin and she felt her body answer with aching wetness.

"I – well, I didn't realize. I mean –"

He lifted his head from hers and looked down at her. His eyes insisted on honesty, "Didn't you?"

She sighed reluctant to admit it, suddenly "Yes, I did. I just didn't expect it to go so…fast. Not fast, just….well I don't know. I was just - well I never expected you to want –"

"I understand. I am a Vulcan, it can be difficult to know how to best seduce a member of such a passionless race."

She laughed at his joke, "Hardly passionless. My god what you can do to me." She squeezed her arms to emphasize her words.

He closed his eyes with a slight nod to her compliment. "However now that you know what my feelings are for you I can only ask what yours are."

Her jaw dropped at his directness. She looked deeply into his eyes for a long time, raised a hand to his cheek. She traced a finger up the curve of his brow and let her fingers brush lightly into his silken hair. Then watched intently as the strands fell in ordered lines back over his brow. Her fingers brushed lightly at the tip of his ear and her heart caught when he closed his eyes and his lips parted at the sensation. Her fingers danced lightly down the soft curve of his ear to his jaw. She followed the line of his chin to his mouth. His delicious soft mouth. She traced the curve of his lip now with two fingers, as he had done to her earlier in the night.

He was absolutely still, as if any movement at all would end this moment.

"What do I feel?" she whispered. "You are a valuable officer." She smiled as his eyes opened wide at this, "The best first officer in the fleet I'm told." She licked her lips as she watched her finger brush his lower lip. She could feel his breath on her. She could feel the tension in his body, the stillness and tension. "I don't know, Spock. I want you, at this moment I want you more than anything in the universe." She swallowed hard, "But I'll be honest with you, I'm scared. I spent so much time thinking I loved you. Now that I'm here - now that you're here - I just don't know. I want to spend the rest of my life in this moment with you. I don't want to wake up one morning and find that one of us doesn't want to be here anymore. I don't want to love you and lose you. But I'm not ready to run off and find a preacher. I need…time."

He took her taunting hand in his and kissed it hard, "Christine, I cannot promise you that we shall never part. I care for you deeply or I would not be here with you. I too do not wish to move hastily into something that you will regret. I can promise you that I will never intentionally hurt you. I will do all that I can to give you respect and happiness for as long as you will allow me to. Is that what you wish to know?"

She seemed to relax at this and squeezed his hand as well, "Yes, for today, it is enough. And I promise that I will never intentionally hurt you, Spock."

Now he released her hand and leaned down to kiss her once again. This time with parted lips his tongue sought out hers and tasted sweetness and passion.

She pulled him onto her urging him into her, suddenly desperately hungry to feel him again.

He buried his face in her shoulder as she opened for him, soft cool and wet. He slipped easily into her. Her back arching up to him, yielding to him. With a single stroke he was deep inside her. Her body was a perfect match for his. The sheer physical pleasure was almost overwhelming.

She moaned in his ear as he slowly withdrew completely then plunged into her again. His hands were lost in her hair. His gaze intense on her as she yielded to the sensations that he created in her.

He thrust into her again and again, slow deep long strokes, just enough to stimulate, not quite enough to send her over the edge. He had kept her here, in this plateau of pleasure for nearly an hour the first time. She could feel his all too Vulcan determination to beat that record again. But she would not allow him too much control of this moment when they were here together at last.

He thrust into her again and she lifted her legs up and encircled his waist locking her ankles.

She arched her back and picked up the momentum rather abruptly.

A look of surprise flashed across his face at this sudden aggressiveness. She felt freed, wild with abandon to this moment and she pulled him down on her now. Quite suddenly he was a vision of ecstasy and it was for her alone.

She had done this to him. The sensation of sexual power was intoxicating. He cried out in Vulcan, "Oh woman!" as he fell into her and yielded to the desire to take her. Each stroke came quicker than the last and was rewarded with a loud cry.

His fingers lost in the tangle of her hair his mind sought out hers and with lightening speed he was there in her thoughts. A wild hurricane of pleasure and memory and happiness swirled all about them. He could hear the sound of her pleasure like a song in the wind and he added his own voice to the rising sound. A simple meld had never yielded such pleasure. And she fairly vibrated with pleasure.

Then, all too soon, it came the delectable moment in which the world closed in around them and there was nothing but Spock and Christine.

Her body hummed and trembled with tension as he felt it rise up to its natural peak. Then she fell and with amazing strength she closed around his shaft and her waves of pleasure were too much for him. Spock's face contorted with ecstasy as a soft shout escaped his mouth and he cried out her name thrusting harder and faster. His fingers clutched the bed linens below her. She felt his pulsating climax deep within body even as his mind exploded within her own. He could not stop the final thrusts of pleasure. She arched against him like a dolphin on the sea awash in ecstasy eyes clenched tight clutching his body to hers desperately.

With an exhausted sigh she whispered, "I love you." And before he could answer in kind she kissed him. They collapsed together in a tangle of sweat glistening limbs on the remains of her decimated bed.

**Menu  
**Tea and Coffee  
Scones

Spock leaned quite naturally against her headboard, a sheet draped lazily across his lap.

Christine snuggled in with a cup of coffee and a plate of plain warm scones trying hard not to jostle the bed lest Spock spill his tea. She nestled next to him and he pulled her in close and inhaled the scent of her tousled hair with abandon.

She lifted the plate of scones for him and he shook his head gently, lips brushing her ear softly with a gentle kiss.

She sipped her coffee and reveled in the sensations of him here in her bed so near, holding her as if it were exactly where she belonged.

"This." He said suddenly as he gripped her shoulder and hugged her to his side.

She chuckled, "How very caveman like of you. This what?"

He cocked an eyebrow as if it were the answer to a question she had just asked and she simply did not understand what the answer was. "_This_ is what I prefer." He squeezed her gently again. "You asked me what I truly wanted. You said you would discover what my preferences were. This is what I prefer. Tea and scones here with you, Christine."

She smiled and though she could barely see for the happy tears that now filled her eyes, she was certain that he smiled a bit too.

End


End file.
